


Bedtime Stories

by QueerBluebird



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25546693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerBluebird/pseuds/QueerBluebird
Summary: Dean can't sleep; Castiel offers a solution.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Bedtime Stories

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by [this wonderful artwork](https://lizleeships.tumblr.com/post/623402437550768128/im-going-through-an-i-hate-everything-i-draw) by lizleeships, before I read its accompanying fic, which can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248025). 
> 
> In the spirit of two cakes, and since this is the first fanwork I've actually finished in at least five years, I'm sharing it here in the hopes some folk will enjoy it. :)

Dean’s going on forty-two hours awake when Cas finds him in the bunker’s library. He doesn’t even know how long he’s been hunched over the same book, head in his hand, staring blankly at the words that long ago blurred into illegibility. His back aches, and he’s pretty sure his left asscheek has gone numb.

“Dean.”

He looks up at Cas, squinting a little through the faint headache that’s been hovering behind his eyes. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“You need to go to sleep.”

He would, but every time his eyes slip shut he jolts back awake, terrified of the dreams that are waiting for him if he does. “Nah, I’m good.” He clears his throat, tries to sound a little less like he might pass out at any moment. “Just uh, getting in a little research. No time like the present.”

“You have been researching the same page for over an hour.” Cas tells him, looking grave and concerned and Dean doesn’t even know what to say to that, his brain too sluggish to come up with a defense.

A hand alights on his shoulder, gentle, but firm. “Dean. Please come with me.”

He heaves a sigh, which comes out sounding a lot more authentically tired than the resigned sarcasm he’d been aiming for, and thumps the book closed. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Where are we going?” He stands, immediately winces, and starts rubbing the back of his thigh to get his blood flowing correctly again.

“ _You_ are going to bed. I am going to help.”

“Dude. I’m not a fucking kid.” His voice comes out clipped. “Think I can handle putting myself to bed.”

“Clearly not.” Cas retorts, and Dean glares, but Cas just stares back at him, unmoved.

When his leg finally feels like it’ll hold him, he brushes past Cas and heads for his bedroom.

Cas trails him the whole way there, watches as he flops onto his bed, half propped up by the pillows against his headboard. “There. Happy?”

“Yes,” Cas says, but instead of leaving like Dean had expected, he holds up a book. “I’m going to read you a bedtime story.”

Dean sputters. “You… That’s… I’m not a kid!”

Cas’ face scrunches up. “What does being a child have to do with it?”

“It’s…” Cas’ obvious bafflement cuts the legs out from under Dean’s indignation, and he scrubs a hand over his face. “Bedtime stories are for kids, man. People read them to help kids go to sleep.”

“I don’t understand,” Cas says. “Do they stop working when you become an adult?”

“No. I don’t know. It’s just not a thing for adults.”

“Does that mean you won’t let me?” Cas asks, and he looks so forlorn about it that Dean can feel himself caving instantly.

“No, it’s. It’s fine. Uh. You can try it. If you want.” Maybe this is just something on Cas’ Things Humans Do bucket list, Dean justifies to himself. It’s not about him, it’s about the experience. And that’s fine, he can give that to Cas. He certainly owes the guy enough.

He has about fifteen seconds to feel magnanimous about it before his brain catches up with what his eyes are seeing. Which is Cas nodding, pulling the throw that had been laying haphazardly at the foot of Dean’s bed around his own shoulders, and crawling onto the bed. Dean’s bed. Dean’s bed, with Dean in it.

Dean gapes. He can’t help it. He tries to make words with his mouth, but the wheels of his brain have apparently lost all traction in the mud of his exhaustion and it’s not until Cas has just fucking casually imposed himself between Dean’s legs and settled there, his back to Dean, that Dean manages an extremely articulate “Uhhh…”

Cas must notice his tension because he twists to peer back at Dean, and when he sees Dean’s face his brow scrunches up again. “Is something the matter? Sam assured me that this is the most effective position for reading bedtime stories, is that not correct?”

Fucking _Sam_ . Dean’s gonna kill him. Dean’s gonna kill him and tell everyone they know that he died by slipping on his own overpriced shampoo in the shower. “Not…Uh.“ _No. You should sit at the foot of the bed._ All he has to do is say it, and he knows that Cas will.

But Cas is warm, and solid, and he smells fucking amazing this close, even if Dean would never admit it aloud, and Dean… Dean doesn’t actually want Cas to leave. And this is the perfect excuse. Handed to him on a silver platter. And he’s fucking exhausted and all the reasons he should make Cas move away feel hazy and distant and he hears himself saying “No, it’s okay.”

Cas nods and turns back to the book in his lap, opening it and smoothing his hand along the pages until he finds the right one. Dean settles back a little, and then his mouth is moving without his permission again. “You can just, uhm. You can lean against me. If you want.” He’s so fucking glad Cas isn’t looking at him anymore because he can feel the traitorous flush in his face and his ears.

Cas settles against him a little more firmly. “Physical contact is an important part of the process. You could put your arms around my shoulders also, if you wish.” Looking anywhere but at Cas, Dean does, resigned to his fate.

He feels Cas’ fingertips, light against his arm, an unspoken acknowledgement, and then Cas begins to read.

Between the low rumble of Cas’ voice in his ears and against his chest, and the warm, grounding weight of him, it takes hardly any time at all before Dean’s head is slumping against the pillows. He lets it. And this time, instead of jolting awake, he sleeps, and does not dream.

**Author's Note:**

> This is also the first thing I've ever posted to AO3, so uh. Hope I did this right? If there's any tags I should have here that are missing, I'm all ears.
> 
> I'm also [on tumblr](https://queerbluebird.tumblr.com/), where I almost exclusively reblog SPN art and writing.


End file.
